


price of war

by WithYourRhythm



Series: short Naruto drabbles [8]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Blood, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Mission Fic, NOW WITH ART!!!, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithYourRhythm/pseuds/WithYourRhythm
Summary: “War,” Obito murmurs beside him, resting his hand on Kakashi’s shoulder, “Takes a lot from innocents, doesn’t it?”
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Series: short Naruto drabbles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1110975
Kudos: 74





	price of war

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> I was thinking of Obito somehow being rescued from Madara and helping Konoha win the war, and, well. This happened.
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
> Edit: lovely sloaners drew and absolutely amazing (and sad ;-;) doodle for this!! [ Check it out and give her some love!! ](https://sloaners.tumblr.com/post/639085994693492736/war-obito-murmurs-beside-him-resting-his-hand)

Crouched down, Kakashi curls a hand around the light blue jewelry, a family heirloom covered in blood, with his lone visible eye devoid of any emotions despite the scene in front of him. His other hand is twitching from the rush of chakra, air in front of him still warm from the fire jutsu he used to burn the body to keep other hidden villages from getting it.

It’s almost painful, how this feels like a normal thing for him by now, almost a reflex.

“War,” Obito murmurs beside him, resting his hand on Kakashi’s shoulder, “Takes a lot from innocents, doesn’t it?”

Kakashi shakes his head and glances at the battered letter laying on the ground, a few feet away from the ashes of the dead man. It’s dirty and has dried blood stains over it, but it looks intact, so Kakashi presses his lips together and reaches for it. “Nobody is innocent,” He lifts his head to look into Obito’s eyes, “Not on the battlefield.”

Obito’s hand slips from his shoulder as Kakashi gets up. He surveys the area, taking in the blood-stained and charred ground, and a grimace surfaces on his face. The smell of burnt flesh and blood makes his eye burn as he swallows back the words that want to spill out, hand clenching around the jewelry.

Days like these, he hates being a part of ANBU. He hates Konohagakura, hates everything, and-

And he’s not a traitor and will never become one, but thoughts never wait for approval before appearing in his mind.

_ (Can’t become a traitor _ , a voice whispers in the back of his mind.  _ Not when they are watching your every move, waiting for you to act like your father and destroy their hopes for a war they plan to win, prisoners they will torture, deaths that will protect the village they built on dead bodies and soaked with the tears of innocent bystanders.) _

(Once, there was his father, carrying the legacy of his dead yet honorable samurai ancestors. There was Rin, with her determined eyes, all too dangerous in her killers' eyes to let loose on this very earth where she would help and protect people, would introduce happiness and freedom to those who have lived under murderers for their whole lives.

They are now called traitors in front of their own graves, when all they had done was giving hope to the ones that needed it, to  _ Kakashi _ of all people when all he deserved was nothing but death for all the sins he committed.)

“We should go home,” He finally sighs, shifting the bloody jewelry between his fingers. The blunt edge of that little, shapeless thing presses against his thumb, and he takes a second to think of the lives lost for a mere letter, of the families that are waiting for good news about their loved ones fighting in the war, and instead will receive the worst ones. “Let's get this heirloom back to where it belongs. We will have to stray away from our planned route, but we can-”

“No, we can’t.” Obito interrupts him harshly, his lone eye glaring towards the sky, “It’s almost noon. We are already too late, you can’t possibly think about actually taking-”

“I am, and we will.” Kakashi gives him a cheerful smile. “You wouldn’t want to throw away this heirloom, right?”  _ This man was our comrade,  _ he doesn't say,  _ he died while protecting you and only asked for one favor- for this small thing to be given back to his family. _

_ You can't answer with a no. _

“No,” Obito still grumbles. “We don’t have time.”

_ I won’t let you. _

Madara's influence on Obito is not very visible after dozens of healing sessions with Rin, but Kakashi remembers the whistle of wind behind him, the leftover sting of a punch that was not just a sign of frustration and anger but instead a lesson, and the rumbling sound of the stones and the slick, hot feeling of blood on his face and hands. He knows this is not the Obito he left behind that day.

But, well, it's not like he expects Obito to be the same.

Kakashi can be the fool between the two of them, just for this once.

“We will have to move quickly,” He says without a care, grabbing a bandage from his pouch and carefully wrapping it around the jewelry.

“You can’t be serious!” Obito protests with a frown, not moving an inch. He crosses his arms over his chest to prove that he won’t be moving at all, and Kakashi huffs with disappointment squeezing his heart. He knows he shouldn't be frustrated, but it's hard not to. 

“I am.” He slips the small bundle of bandages into his pouch. The words spill out from his mouth easily, “That wasn’t a question, Obito. It was an order.”

He doesn’t intend to let Obito fade away, leaving nothing but a shadow of an old man who betrayed the village he built with his own hands. If he has to remind Obito of his higher rank to make sure that he doesn’t do something he would regret if right now he was just a little less like how Kakashi used to be, then Kakashi will do that without a hesitation.

(“Living for the sake of ghosts,” The Sandaime murmurs with sadness in his voice, “That’s a lonely existence, Kakashi. You should learn to let go.”)

“Let’s move out.” Kakashi braces himself and leaps up to a sturdy looking branch of a tree.

For a second, no sound comes. But then Obito’s light footsteps follow him, and Kakashi quietly lets out a shaky breath.  _ Alright. _

_ I can work with this. _

(“Maybe,” Kakashi doesn’t move from where he kneels, the gravestone cold against his hands. He thinks of Minato slumped against Kushina, of Rin with a hole in her chest, Obito, crushed under boulders, and his father with his hands tight around his blade. “But who can I learn from?” The words burn, but he continues anyway. “Sensei is already dead.”)


End file.
